Here's the deal. I'm really upset. Yes, I was supposed to take a break today, but instead I want to tell you what's really been going on.
Do you remember my friend, Jill--the pansy? Here's that post:
Well, get ready for some tough nuggets . . . Jill is me. I didn't want people worrying about me if they found out our house keeps getting broken into. I've told you how Melynda guarded my house--even though she couldn't see. I've told you other things that might have tipped you off.
Anyway, I'm sick of denying it and super aggravated!
I sent this email to a friend recently, and finally decided to post it here. . . .
Someone broke into our house on my birthday--talk about inconsiderate! My brother said I'm getting desensitized to the whole thing. "Why does your birthday make it worse? Isn't a break-in bad enough?" he asked.
The point remains, this has happened multiple times. In the night. In the day. I tried explaining how I don't know why this makes things worse, but it does. Maybe it's coincidence . . . I don't think it is though. Now it shows they know details. It's more of a violation. It could be someone I know.
We've replaced three doors, dumped in money we don't have to repair damages, replace locks. This last time, my alarm blared before I got in the house, so I went to my neighbor's. She saw me pull up, said there was a man in a black car parked across the street. The neighbor said he watched until I pulled into the driveway, then he drove away. I've been watching for a black car; I think everyone and their dog owns a black car--they're all I ever notice now.
Why can't criminals pick bright pink cars, something that's easy to spot--seriously.
A detective came, he's been here when we were broken into before. He took down names of everyone and anyone who I think might--break-in OR drive a black car--I think that's a long shot. One cop patronized me, like I'm an idiot for getting worried! At least the detective took me seriously; he's seen the damages from before though--broken beer bottles in the garage, a crowbar to the back door . . . A mandoor partially shouldered from its frame and upper hinges. The list goes on.
"This person . . ." the detective said, "they get into your home and when the alarm goes off, they run." I nodded. I've been home when they've gotten in at night before. He didn't need to tell me about it! "They're just trying to scare you."
"I'm not really scared, though," I said. "Maybe I used to be, but its happened so much, now I'm just mad. I want to know who this is and I want it to stop."
He nodded. "We'll send extra patrols around your place."
This could be anyone--and I HATE black cars. I rented a movie from Redbox yesterday and almost karate chopped the guy behind me--see what I mean--everyone around is suspect!
Sure the break-ins started almost five years ago, when I had a booming clothing business and no time for writing. Still why would they break in on MY birthday? I bought a gun, took shooting lessons, got a concealed weapon's permit, practically could have played the lead in "Salt"--because now I know what I'm doing.
Still things bother me . . . It's getting worse lately. Maybe the criminal's balls finally dropped? Does this have something to do with my book? The fact that I'm a religious minority. The first thing taken was a box of memorabilia--pictures of my son who died--Zeke. Am I putting my whole family in danger because I wanted to publish Zeke's story and help people? I don't use my real name. I use fake addresses. For all you know, my name is Michelle or Juliet . . . wait, let's go with Juliet.
Maybe all of these break-ins aren't linked. Maybe it's just coincidence how it was my birthday?
All of our doors have been broken into now. They've only taken one thing--pictures. My (unbroken at the time) iPad2 was on the counter--they didn't even take that! What kind of idiot leaves an iPad2--they're practically God's gift to mankind!!
Joking aside, I'm really angry. I try my hardest to help people and do what's right. Then some ass comes and does this to my family. Heaven help the man in the black car if he gets in this house and decides to stay instead of run. This is just a bunch of BS and it needs to stop. I hate feeling that I may have done something to put my family in danger. Out of everything that has happened (even the crowbar thing) this one makes me the most angry . . . You don't mess with someone's birthday, really.